Sweet Gestures
by Lady.Artemis.Isis.13
Summary: Happy Mother's Day; "Messes could be cleaned. It was the sweet gesture that she'd cherish forever."


**DISCLAIMER: Percy Jackson and the Olympians is the rightful property of Rick Riordan.**

 **ORIGINAL DATE: 08/05/2016**

 **SYNOPSIS:** ** _Happy Mother's Day; "Mess could cleaned. It was the sweet gesture that she'd cherish forever."_**

 **FEATURED CHARACTERS: Sally Jackson, Percy Jackson**

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE: Due to my original account being closed (see main profile for more details), I have elected to re-upload this story on my new account.**

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 **SALLY & PERCY JACKSON**

 **Sweet Gestures**

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In her dreams, Sally saw her parents as she had known them as a young girl. The sound of her father's hearty laugh as he lifted her high in the air, or perched her on his shoulders. Her mother's gentle smile as she baked in the kitchen, or read in the study. Those were the dreams that gave Sally comfort. They reminded her of all those old memories, and those little wishes that they could have been around to watch her grow up.

"Mommy?" She heard all to her, her body beginning to shake as her parents suddenly vanished from view. "Mommy?"

Her body shook again.

"Mommy? Wake up, Mommy!"

Sally almost lurched forward in alarm. Dazzled and confused, her eyes fixed on the first thing that came into view, which happened not to be a thing, she realized, but a person. A very small person with dark hair.

"Percy?" Rubbing her eyes, she took a closer look at the little six-year-old boy perched next to her on her bed. His dark hair was mess and his wide green eyes were gleaming fretfully, but that wasn't what immediately caught her attention.

The poor boy was covered in flour. Blue dough was pasted to his pajamas and cheeks, and white flour dusted his hair so profusely that she could have sworn he'd gone gray overnight.

"Oh, sweetheart, what happened?" she asked, shaking herself out of dreamland and sitting up in her bed.

The other side was empty. She'd almost forgotten that Gabe had gone to visit cousins for the weekend, and wouldn't be back until that afternoon. Their apartment complex would have an earful if he'd been here to see her son spread flour all over their bed.

"Breakfast!" Percy's expression lit up. Sally giggled. Though he looked rather pleased with himself, he also looked adorably ridiculous. He shuffled around and pointed at the pillow where Gabe's head usually resided, and Sally's jaw dropped in surprise.

One of their wooden trays adored in pillow, laden with an unexpected breakfast menu. There was a glass of orange juice, two slightly burned slices of toast (a bite had been taken out of it), a cup of half-eaten yoghurt (if the spoon was any evidence at all), and a plate of blue, marginally browned, scrambled eggs waiting to be eaten. Blue grease covered the plate's rim, and streaks of it had printed out on the sheets in little Percy-prints. They even stained what looked like a drawn card sitting patiently next to the scrambled eggs.

Percy beamed at the tray. Sally was torn between being proud of his accomplishment and worried that he'd actually managed to operate the stove. At least she hadn't woken to the apartment in flames and it appeared, in good fortune, that he hadn't burned himself either.

"Is that for me?" Whatever worries Sally had in her dreams slowly vanished at the sight of her son's work. A playfully amused smile adorned her face as she picked up the card at peered down at the cover.

It was a colorful crayon drawing of what looked to be a brown-haired, blue-eyed stick-figure woman in a bright blue dress, and a marginally smaller stick-figure boy with black hair and green eyes. A curly speech bubble swerved around them to the top of the page, reading **_Hapy mohterƨ day!_**

Inside the card was the sweetest message Percy could have given to brighten her day. Even with his dyslexia, he'd tried his best to spell out what he meant in blue crayon.

 ** _To the beƨ mommy n the wurld hoo makƨ the beƨ fod and giveƨ the beƨ hugƨ. I loev you, Pɘrcy_**.

Sally beamed at the little message, her heart bouncing off lovingly as she immediately wrapped her son in a warm hug, touched by his efforts.

"Thank you, sweetheart," she said, dusting some of the flour out of his hair. "This was so thoughtful of you."

She turned back to the letter. Beneath the words was a drawing the same two stick figures, obviously a rendering of Sally and Percy themselves, standing on a what appeared to be a boat dock by the beach, with lots of waves, peach sand, and bright blue skies. Montauk perhaps? A quarter of a yellow circle was fitted in the corner—the sun—and in the waters of the dock was a round black blob.

"And what's this over here?" she asked, pointing to the little blob on the water. "Is that a whale?"

"It's Gabe!"

Sally buried her face in Percy's floury hair, all the while coaching herself not to laugh. It was only then that she realized that, while her son was covered in flour, there was nothing on her plate that suggested that he'd done any baking. Unless he baked the bread to make the toast, which she found highly unlikely.

"Sweetie, why are you covered in flour?" she asked wonderingly, pinching at his messy clothes, and picking dried blue dough off his cute little nose.

"I tried making pancakes," Percy confessed, going pink in the face. "It didn't work."

Pancakes? Percy didn't know how to make pancakes… Sally had a sudden, rousing suspicion that her son had made a small tornado of a mess in the kitchen, but she appreciated it all the same. Messes could be cleaned. It was the sweet gesture that she'd cherish forever.

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 **ORIGINAL AUTHOR'S NOTES:**

 **Happy Mother's Day, everyone. Here's a little shout-out to the best mother in the Percy Jackson series. And no, it's definitely not Gaea.**

 **Song of the Chapter:** ** _Alison Krauss – Slumber My Darling_**

 **I honestly don't know much about how a dyslexic child would write. I know for sure that I used to write my 's' backwards around that age, because I used to draw on the walls, and my letters were—well—I was still learning to write. Early on, spelling was tricky. It was around that age that I started learning how to make eggs, and believe you me, it wasn't pretty.**

 **~o~**

 ** _Ciao for now_** **,**

 **Lady.** **Artemis** **.** **Isis** **.** **13**


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